A day to reach out
by catsintheattic
Summary: It’s the first day of the new term and Professor Snape watches the students’ arrival. Among the third years, Draco Malfoy needs his help in more than one way. Snape reaches out, and is torn between his head and his heart all the time.


Author's notes: Thank you, MikaBird, for the great job you did with this fic, especially the potion scene. You helped me to develop Severus's skills as a Potions Master as well as a godfather to Draco. I bow deeply and honestly to you. 

Dear reader,

your feedback and thoughts are always welcome!

* * *

**A day to reach out**

When the carriages arrived, Professor Snape watched them from his favourite place. He was carefully hidden behind the statue of Winfried the Wilful, able to see all and not to be seen by any. The students left the carriages and scrambled up the stone steps to the Great Hall. He recognised Potter's messy head at once – that nuisance of a boy – heard Granger yell out some orders to a second year child – only one year ahead, but always the bossy know-it-all. Parkinson was there, accompanied by Nott. Several redheads of that disgraceful Weasley bunch. The Ravenclaw seeker, Chang. Longbottom, looking for his toad – which was to be expected. A Hufflepuff, Bowles or Bones maybe – never outstanding enough to remember their names. Craning his neck, he looked out for his favourite student. There! Crabbe and Goyle, the inseparable duo. But where was Draco Malfoy? Snape's eyes scanned the student body and finally found whom he was looking for. The boy was on his own. Snape watched him as he slowly made his way up the stairs.

He continued his observation throughout the Sorting Ceremony and all the way through the Welcoming Feast. Sitting among his House mates, Malfoy seemed well enough to hand out some jokes and welcome the first years. But Snape did not allow his attention to waver, something about the way the boy moved, the way he pushed his food around on the plate without eating it made him uneasy. Of course, Draco had always been a light eater. But still, he had better check him out after dinner.

After the feast, Snape caught Malfoy on his way to the dungeons. Strangely enough, his usual company of Crabbe and Goyle was missing. The boy was late and should have been in his dormitory by now. He looked dishevelled and his face shone waxy in the dimly lit corridor. Snape had seen enough. "Mr. Malfoy," he asked, "what happened to you?"

"Nothing, Sir," said Draco. "I'm on my way to the dungeons."

The man, towering over the boy, said nothing. Ever so slowly, he raised his left brow. And waited.

Draco couldn't stand the silence. "I'm okay, Sir, really," he tried again.

Snape gave him another stern and searching look.

"You are far from being 'okay', Mr. Malfoy." He caught hold of the boy's arm and led him away.

"Where are you taking me, Sir? I don't need to go to the hospital wing. I'm fine."

"I'm taking you to my office, to have a closer look at you."

The Professor closed the door and seated the blond boy on the couch near the fireplace. "I will ask you again, now. What happened to you?"

"Nothing. I'm fine," Draco answered quickly. He was almost pleading.

"So, you want to tell me you are fine?" The older man simply touched one of the wet spots on the boy's robes. "You might also want to tell me that this," his finger came of wearing a smear of red, "isn't blood? Draco?"

Draco suddenly looked miserable and ashamed. "I... failed my father..." the boy's voice was barely more than a whisper. "I disobeyed... and... he had to... punish me." He hung his head.

Snape looked at the wisps of blond hair shielding the boy's face from view, the tender curve of Draco's neck. He also saw some brownish lumps that matted the hair right above the left temple.

"Draco, let me have a look. You shouldn't run around the school like that."

Draco didn't resist any longer, and he carefully peeled the young wizard out of his robes and down to his boxers. When he was done, Draco's face was strained with pain. And Snape could clearly see why.

There were rope burns on the boy's wrists. His back showed a series of lacerations and bruises, their colours ranging from the darkest blue to the faintest yellow. Pale skin stretched over protruding ribs. The boy looked small and vulnerable, like a victim of some Death Eater set lose. And in a way, that was exactly the case.

Anger welled up in Severus Snape, anger at the originator of this cruel abuse of a child he loved and cared for. Some of it must have shown on his face, as Draco flinched and started begging immediately.

"Please, don't get angry. He had to punish me. I disobeyed," repeated Draco. "I deserved... this."

Snape sat down on the couch, beside the boy. "Draco, listen to me. Nobody deserves... this," he gestured towards the boy's back. "You hear me? Nobody!"

"But, he did this to... to teach me. He means well. He... he... he's my father."

Snape sighed. He would never understand the boy's utter devotion to his father, his desperate efforts to win Lucius's praise and love. Whereas the elder Malfoy all but used his son to form an appropriate heir and pull his strings. Lucius didn't mean to be cruel, Snape was certain. He simply inflicted pain to make sure that his lessons were learned well. He wasn't affectionate towards Draco either. Given a son who suited him more, Lucius would have discarded Draco as dispensable.

Unlike him, Severus Snape, who had detached himself from hope for so much as a friendly word from Tobias even before he had gone to Hogwarts, Draco was determined to prove himself worthy of his father's love. Blind and eager – a dangerous combination.

"It's alright, Draco. Let's not discuss your father's disciplinary measures. Your wrists will heal within a few days. But please, let me put some potion on your back."

Draco backed away. "Father said it has to heal on its own," he said.

"You shouldn't go to your dormitory like that. There is a chance that someone might take notice of your injuries. You should not take such a risk. And I'm sure your father would not object to me helping you. After all, I am your godfather."

The boy looked up, hesitating. Snape waited, bottling up his impatience and frustration. As Draco slowly nodded in agreement, he could feel some of the tension leaving his muscles.

He stood up and stepped over to the cupboard. Potion upon potion was neatly lined up on the shelves. To heal the boy quickly, Snape needed a strong agent.

From the highest shelf, he chose a small bottle made of dark green glass. With a steady hand, he poured half a cup of its thick content into an empty beaker. Carefully he closed the concentrate and put on a pair of protective dragonhide gloves. He added a measure of water to the potion in the beaker and stirred deftly. Six times clockwise, nine times counterclockwise, three times clockwise again. The water turned to a green jelly. Snape blew away the emerging steam, eyed the result closely, added some more water and repeated the stirring process. A bit more fluid, a slightly different shade of green. Satisfied, the Potions Master picked a clean cloth from one of the drawers. On second thought, he also took out a thick piece of leather. The beaker had warmed up to a great extent, heat was glowing through his gloves when he touched the glass.

This particular healing potion was none of those he would mix for Madam Pomfrey's hospital use.

Snape sat down beside the waiting boy, placing the beaker and the leather on the table in front of the couch. Draco, who had been watching the whole procedure closely, had a questioning look on his face.

"Do you recognise this potion?" Snape asked in his best Professor's voice.

"No, Sir... uh... maybe... I guess..." Draco trailed of.

"Yes?"

"Maybe it's a potion used for travelling and such, because you took a concentrate which simply had to be diluted with water."

"Very good, Draco." The proud godfather and demanding Potions Master couldn't suppress a satisfied smile. "This is a refined version of the Skele-Gro. It was developed for use on the battlefield and guarantees an accelerated healing process."

"Skele-Gro! People gossiped about Potter having to take it, when Lockheart removed his bones after the Quidditch accident last year," exclaimed Draco. He grew even paler. "They said it hurts."

His godfather nodded. "This is true." Snape watched his godson closely, carefully choosing his next words. "And even more so for the potion I am going to use now. Due to the accelerated healing, the pain will be intensified while the potion is working."

Draco swallowed nervously. His hands, balled to fists in his lap, showed white knuckles. "I guess it also tastes horribly," remarked the boy in a try for light-hearted bravery.

Snape took up the ball thrown at him. "You won't need to drink it. Taken inwardly, the potion re-grows bones and nerves. Applied outwardly, it is used to rebuild skin and flesh."

"I guess I'm lucky, then," joked Draco. He looked sick to the bone, but would never admit this in the open. There was no way Snape could spare him the treatment, so he proceeded without delay.

"The potion is ready. Let's get over with it," he told the boy, handing him the leather. Without a word Draco took it, put it between his teeth and turned to give the man access to his back. Snape suppressed a shudder at the smoothness of the boy's actions, as if it were merely routine to him.

"You need to lie down on your stomach." Draco silently obeyed. His godfather took the still steaming potion and applied it generously to the boy's back, using the cloth to absorb the waste. He sensed the young one's tension and wished that he could have taken away the additional pain. All the same he restrained himself from touching Draco's arm to reassure him. The boy wasn't used to being cuddled and could easily be ashamed by what he would consider to be his own inadequacy and weakness.

"Now we need to wait about ten to fifteen minutes for the potion to take effect," he informed Draco. He placed himself in a chair beside the couch, prepared to monitor the healing process as well as the boy's demeanour.

Snape had not exaggerated in describing the properties of the Skele-Gro. Yes, it was indeed a potion to get warriors back to the battlefield. Research had concentrated on speed, neglecting the side effects. Especially with internal use, Snape had seen grown men being broken from the pain. The boy lying in front of him on the couch had turned thirteen this summer. His small shoulders were shaking softly. The right one was marked with a deep, nasty looking welt, where the potion had seeped into.

Draco let out a small whimper, and Snape snapped out of his thoughts. One look at the boy's face told him that he was almost done. His eyes dark from pain, teeth buried into the leather, spittle running down his chin – Draco was clinging onto the last of his restraint. He would collapse soon, and Snape wanted to spare him the embarrassment. Another look at the boy's back told him that the potion's work was finished. The thick liquid had turned from green to a fierce red.

"I'm going to remove the potion now. It will be over soon." He mumbled the incantation and swept the liquid up with the tip of his wand. Draco's back showed pale but uninjured skin where twenty minutes before bruises and open wounds had been. The boy was visibly relaxing. Snape produced another cloth and gave it to Draco, who cleaned his face with it.

"Th-thank you,... Severus."

The use of his given name warmed Snape's heart. Draco wasn't a child to get close to easily, so every time he gained a tiny step into the boy's heart it felt like a small victory. A victory in the battle – not against the Dark Lord, but only for this one boy's wellbeing.

If Draco would only trust him enough to confide in him, so that the boy could see there were other goals to reach for. He was worrying too much; he knew it and was inwardly snarling at himself for it.

But still, the urge to protect the boy was overwhelming. Perhaps it would be best if he stayed here on the couch tonight? Snape dismissed the suggestion and handed Draco a glass of water instead. He drained it hastily. "Take it easy, there is more in the pitcher on the table," said Snape. "Just take your time."

After Draco had regained his composure and had donned his robes again, he walked the boy all the way from his office to the Slytherin dormitory. "Good night, Draco. Rest well and have a good start tomorrow."

Draco nodded. "I'll discard these robes immediately. And... thank you, Sev- Professor Snape."

The Head of Slytherin House gently touched his godson's shoulder. "It's okay. 'Severus' is just fine, when we're among ourselves. Now go to sleep." A shy smile in Draco's eyes answered him.

He watched as the blond boy touched the black wall in front of the dormitory, mumbled the password and was pulled inside through the wall. Draco would hopefully be able to eat something in the morning. The thought flittered through his mind before he could stop it. Once more, Severus Snape frowned at himself. Then he made his way back through the corridors to his own rooms. It was late, the term had just started and tomorrow would be another day.


End file.
